


The Rest of Our Lives

by pagesfromthemaple



Series: Tumblr Writing [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hints of Smut, after Goblet of Fire and before OotP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 14:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20259403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagesfromthemaple/pseuds/pagesfromthemaple
Summary: In the summer following yours and George’s sixth year at Hogwarts, you worry about what has happened and what is to come.





	The Rest of Our Lives

Your evening starts and ends with the wind soft upon your eyelashes. You’re sat up, back leaning against the stone exterior of the Burrow. The long, uncut grass that grew against the wall tickles your bare, sweaty shoulders when the breeze pushes it toward you. The sun is close to setting and casts an orange glow onto the mess of George’s long hair. It seemed to set your lap alight with bright fire; his head lay on your thighs, face-up, eyes closed, and the rest of his body sprawled out on your left. Your gaze travels from his ever-so-slightly pimpled forehead, to each cluster of freckles on his nose and cheekbones, then to the tip of his tongue just peeking past his lips, as it did when he was in thought.

There was a lot to think about. You thought back to not a month ago- to the Tournament. You hadn’t seen Cedric’s corpse for too long, just that it was still and limp in Harry’s arms. You were sat in the bleachers of the Quidditch pitch with George, Fred, Ron and Ginny, and as soon as the music stopped George had instantly taken your face and covered it with his jacket. You had gripped his arms tightly, shaking when you heard Amos’ excruciating shriek into the sky.

The first few weeks after yours and the twins’ sixth year was all too vivid. There wasn’t much time to mourn for Cedric or even to visit the Diggory family more than once. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to know what to do instantly. Within a week of the school year ending there were already plans to relocate the family.

“Hm?” George seems to notice your stare, despite his eyes being closed. You cock your head so you could look at him right-side up. He licks his lips before finally blinking and staring up at you. When your eyes meet, his eyes soften and he instantly breaks out into a lopsided grin. Clearly his thoughts were elsewhere.

“What?” you mouth silently at him. You hadn’t the faintest clue what he wanted for an answer. Any topic of the impending war had already been exhausted between the two of you. That, or neither of you felt comfortable yet to bring it up. For now, you wanted to enjoy your time with George at the Burrow before you had to leave for the Order headquarters.

“You’re staring at me like I’ve grown a third ear.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to tell through all this hair,” you tease him, running your fingers through the blaze. George scrunches his nose, and finally sits up. With his back turned to you, you reach to pull some grass out from between strands of hair. “Really, George, keep this up and yours and Fred’s hair will be longer than your sister’s.”

At this, he turns around to face you. His smile widens and lets a small, low laugh out as he leans forward to give you a brief peck on the lips.

“I think we’d still be, like, the strongest couple. Arguably, we’d be unstoppable at that point.”

You snort, picking out the last of the grass from his hair and tossing it aside. You look down at your bare, dirty feet. You’re drifting off again, into the uncertainty of your upcoming school year. You really don’t want to think about how scary the future is, and you especially don’t want to think about what the war might mean for you and George, as insignificant as you think it is compared to everything else. You’ve been together for nearly two years now, and you know he’s never wavered in his affections for you. He’s your biggest external source of support and the person you’re closest to in your small world. But, you can’t help but wonder whether _he_ thinks of you as someone to stick with through what’s to come. It’s the one thing you haven’t mentioned to him yet, just because you don’t want to make things about you in this time…

“Really, what’s on your mind?” George lifts your chin with his fingers so you look at him. You’re all of a sudden a few inches from his all-knowing eyes; he sounds more stern now, but he’s never not at least a little bit soft with you. You look down again, now choosing to stare at his collarbones showing from his plain green t-shirt.

“Just…” you trail off, alternating between biting and licking your lips. “The same stuff.” George nods slowly, and you know he understands exactly what you’re thinking about. He knows the best way to cheer you up is with a distraction. So he starts talking about his and Fred’s joke shop, and lets you sit in his lap, facing him.

“We still don’t have a name for it,” he tells you. He’s running his hand up and down your arm, switching gazes between the orange clouds above you, and your own eyes. You hum in reply, fiddling with his hair again.

“Are you listening?” George furrows his brows, but he’s smiling. You glance down at him.

“You notice how long your hair is getting, right?” you ask timidly. You’re met with a smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You really expect to run a respectable business when you and Fred look like you eat Scooby Snacks?” you laugh, tugging at the ends of his hair for emphasis. It just about touches his shoulders now, but if he kept this up throughout seventh year, you don’t doubt the possibility of it growing past them.

“I don’t know what that means, so I’ll take it like a compliment.” George is grinning wider now, like an idiot. A dumb, shaggy idiot. So you try a different approach.

“You know how handsome you’d look with short hair?” you drawl, lightly scraping your fingernails along his scalp. It successfully elicits a shiver that you can feel from where you sit, but still his stupid smile grows.

“Aww, darling, don’t pretend we both don’t enjoy this,” he teases, shaking his head to blur your vision with bright orange. That makes you laugh, and as if that’s what he’s looking for, he hums and hoists you above ground in his arms. You feel your cheeks heating up at the feeling of his muscles flexing as he holds you steady and with minimal effort; the strong arms of Gryffindor’s _best _beater (though you couldn’t blame him if he was using magic- his mum had been stuffing everyone relentlessly with food lately). Standing now, he starts to walk around the house to the front door, carrying you, bridal style.

“How about we do something fun to take your mind off all the bad things, hm?” George hums, pressing his lips to your forehead softly as he carries you up the creaking stairs. When you reach his bedroom, he passively acknowledges Fred, who sits on the bed and passively draws diagrams in a notebook.

“Couch?” Fred asks without looking up from his page.

“Please and thank you,” George replies, exchanging a knowing smile with you before kissing your cheek lightly. Fred gets up with a scoff and grabs his pillow after sticking his pencil behind his ear (which is hidden behind a messy curtain of red).

“Not in my bed, you dogs.” And with that, he’s gone, trudging down the stairs whistling a nonsense tune.

“G’night, Freddie!” you call after him in a loud whisper. His lighthearted chuckle is the last you hear of him before George closes the door with his hip and mutters a spell to turn the lights off in the room.

He finally lays you down on his bed and crawls over you to lie at your side. You furrow your brow and turn over so you can look at him in the dark. You can see him squinting back, but he’s not sporting the shit-eating grin as you had expected. He’s staring you down rather seriously, and while you can just make out his mouth opening and closing, you hear no words.

“Hello.” You break the short silence in a small voice, growing more and more uneasy at his sudden change in attitude. The last thing you want to hear in _his _room, _alone _with him,_ in his bed_, is something that will confirm the fears lurking in the back of your mind.

“Hey,” your boyfriend sighs after a moment, granting you a small upward quirk of the mouth before returning to his word-miming. A minute passes before your patience wears thin.

“George, I thought we were going to do something _fu_-”

He silences you by pulling you closer, sealing the little space left between you. He wraps you in a tight, overbearing hug, his strong arms beginning to shake. Lips, soft and sweet, peck at the top of your head repeatedly while his hands rub up and down your back. Then he mumbles something into your hair, completely unintelligible.

“George, love, what?” He sighs before he begins speaking, loudly compared to the room’s previous volume.

“I know you’re worried about us and about me because of everything happening but I really want you to know tha-that I love you more than anything even the shop and I’m gonna protect you no matter what I promise I’m never gonna leave you because Ginny tells me you worry ‘bout it but you me-mean the world to me and…” You’re not blinking at this point, trying to understand his rapid speech. You’ve pulled back at some point to fixate on his face, which is now a bit clearer in your vision.

“I _know _we’re still young and stuff but, I wanna spend my life with you,” he says, much slower so he’s sure you hear every word, “no matter how much of it we have left.” No words are uttered between you for a long time, but no words are needed. You finally smile at him, small but hopeful, full of love, and you let out the breath you were holding. You nod your head and wiggle your way back into his chest.

“The rest of our lives,” you murmur. It’s heart-wrenching, given your circumstances, but it gives you a new strength._You have each other_.

“Yes, our _long _lives.” George takes your face in his hands, and after brushing a tear from your cheek, he kisses you on the lips. First, it’s the gentle placement of his mouth on yours, then it’s a bit firmer and you begin to melt into each other.

“I reckon everyone else will be in bed right about now…” you whisper. You both know _this _worry isn’t real- the house is far from quiet. You can hear Ron and Ginny arguing upstairs, and someone (probably Fred) clanging around in the kitchen. You run a finger up George’s bare arm, relishing in the almost-silent sound of his breath hitching.

“Then we best not make enough noise to wake them up.”

Your eyelids flutter shut again as you breathe slowly through your nose. You smell melted chocolate on George’s shirt collar, and the cooling summer breeze that drifts in through the window above your heads. The wind and your lover’s breath fan over your face and tickle your eyelashes as you take a deep, _relaxed_ breath for the first time that summer. George shares that one with you, before stealing the next in a tender kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always taking requests! You can do it on my writing blog fictionalmapletree.tumblr.com - I post my writing there first then I upload it here


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